


pop some tags

by thunderylee



Category: Kis-My-Ft2 (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Always a Different Sex, F/F, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-23
Updated: 2013-04-23
Packaged: 2019-01-16 11:57:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,752
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12342246
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thunderylee/pseuds/thunderylee
Summary: Tamamori finds out Miyata’s secret.





	pop some tags

**Author's Note:**

> reposted from agck.

“One of these days I’m going to pop that bitch in her pretty face,” Tamamori grumbles, dropping her bag to the floor and sighing like shrugging off her jacket is too much effort. 

“Which one?” Miyata asks casually as she flops onto her bed. “In our group, you have to be more specific.”

“Fucking Tai-chan, who else?” Tamamori shoves Miyata over and reaches for Miyata’s laptop. “Who does she think she is, talking to me like that? I’m not seventeen anymore.”

Miyata grunts noncommittally, but Tamamori doesn’t need confirmation. Huffing, she clicks around aimlessly and Miyata thinks nothing of it until Tamamori gasps and covers her mouth.

“Miyacchi!” she exclaims, and Miyata tilts her head in confusion until Tamamori turns the laptop so that she can see the display. “Is this _porn_?”

“I…yes,” Miyata answers, blinking more than necessary as she tries to think of something to salvage the situation. “You don’t have porn on your computer?”

“No!” Tamamori squeals, her grin widening as she turns the laptop back and _clicks open the video_. “It’s not animated? I thought you otaku girls only watched hentai. Do they make live-action tentacle porn now?”

“I do not even watch that—” Miyata starts, but she’s interrupted by Tamamori staring at her screen in rapt attention. “What?”

“They’re both boys,” Tamamori says, her voice quiet.

“And?” Miyata says, folding her arms and pretending she’s not completely embarrassed.

“Miyacchi…” Tamamori starts, then abruptly turns away from the laptop to grin at Miyata. “Are you a fujoshi?”

“So what if I am?” Miyata asks haughtily. “By the way, you probably want to turn that off before they get down to it.”

“The hell I will.” Tamamori sets the laptop where they can both see it and sits back on her hands. “I’ve never watched something like this before! You really get off on this stuff?”

Miyata shuffles where she sits. “Don’t say it like that…”

“You do!” Tamamori exclaims, then her eyes get wide as the two idol-lookalikes on the screen start sucking each other’s faces. “You’re turned on right now, aren’t you?”

“Tama-chan, stop,” Miyata says, her face heating up when the yankee schoolboy reaches down to grope the shy schoolboy through his uniform pants. “Turn it off.”

Tamamori shakes her head. “No way.”

Serves her right, Miyata thinks, when the boys lose their clothes and her eyes widen at the way they just drop to suck each other off. Miyata watches her more than the video, mostly because she’s seen this one before (a lot), but also to see Tamamori’s reactions. Despite being friends for so long and doing their tsundere fanservice all the time, they’ve never really approached the topic of same-sex relationships. For someone who’s so easily disgusted, though, she looks thoughtful.

Until she catches Miyata looking. “Your face is pink.”

“Shut up, it isn’t—”

This time she’s cut off by a brush of fingers to her shoulder, instantly making her shiver so hard that it leaves her trembling like she’d been frightened. She curses her decision to wear a sleeveless shirt, because now her body is surging with arousal and she’s not sure her bra is hiding her impossibly hard nipples. It’s not just the video; it’s Tamamori, with whom Miyata may be a little be in love. She’s not just chasing after Tamamori for the camera, though it’s a great excuse to be close to her.

“You really are turned on,” Tamamori says, her voice much quieter as she peers at Miyata like one would look at a wonder of science. “It’s fascinating.”

“Only you would think that,” Miyata grumbles, doing nothing to refute the accusation nor refuse Tamamori’s fingers drifting lazily up and down her arm.

“Does this feel good?” Tamamori asks, and now there’s a hint of curiosity in her words, one that has Miyata’s arousal doubling because she sounds _interested_.

Miyata nods, her heart beating so wildly that Tamamori has to hear it, maybe feel it as the younger girl drags her fingers back up Miyata’s arm and over to her collarbones. Miyata’s head falls back naturally, eyes slipping shut as Tamamori traces her collarbones and moves up to her neck and throat.

“You’re not watching the movie anymore,” Tamamori says calmly.

“I never was.”

Tamamori’s touch halts, though Miyata’s so far gone that she’s more focused on the fact that Tamamori _stopped_ than the possibility that she might hear Miyata’s admission for exactly what it is. A chill surges through Miyata’s body even with Tamamori’s fingers still, and she knows Tamamori has to feel it because it’s strong enough to shake the bed.

“Open your eyes,” is all Tamamori says, and Miyata struggles to follow the simple order as Tamamori shifts around; she doesn’t have to hold her head up because Tamamori’s right behind her, doing it for her.

“What are you doing?” she asks, breath hitching as Tamamori reinstates her touch, now with both hands trailing up and down Miyata’s arms impossibly slow for someone as impatient as Tamamori.

“What you want me to do,” Tamamori answers, and now her voice is much closer, tickling the insides of Miyata’s ears. “Just watch the boys and let me touch you, you little voyeur.”

Miyata swallows, the whole situation so unbelievable that a tiny sliver of logic pushes through the thick haze of her arousal. “Have you even been with a girl like this before?”

“Of course,” Tamamori replies, like it’s the most common thing in the world, and Miyata arches as Tamamori traces the wide collar of her shirt that barely grazes the top of her cleavage. “You haven’t?”

Shaking her head, Miyata would kick herself for making such a big deal out of something that’s apparently _not_ if she wasn’t so focused on it actually happening. “I didn’t know it was something everyone did.”

“Well, I’ve only done it with one person,” Tamamori admits with a laugh. “And Kitamii gets off when the wind blows, so I didn’t really have to do much.”

“You were with Hiromi?” Miyata asks, a mixture of awe and jealousy flooding her as her skin burns with even more arousal. “When? When we were on tour?”

“You would have liked that, wouldn’t you?” Tamamori asks, her voice taking on this teasing tone, and she’s not wrong at all. “The two of us fooling around with you in the room, no idea that you were awake and touching yourself too…”

“ _Tama_ ,” Miyata whines, certain that her face is bright red from a combination of the video in front of her, the fantasy forming in her mind, and the reality behind her.

“What?” Tamamori drops one hand to Miyata’s waist, slipping her fingers under the hem of Miyata’s shirt to trace her skin along the side, right above her hip. “What do you want me to do?”

“ _Touch_ me,” Miyata breathes, feeling even dirtier than the two boys who are now fucking on her laptop, her nerves racing with anticipation. “Please, Tama.”

“Mm, that sounds nice,” Tamamori says, and Miyata jumps from the first press of soft lips to the back of her neck. “I like your hair short like this, by the way. It’s not in the way at all.”

“It’s the style right now,” is all Miyata can think of to say as she tilts her head, giving Tamamori more than enough space to work with, and Tamamori doesn’t disappoint. She drags her lips up Miyata’s neck to her jaw, then around the back of Miyata’s ear along her hairline. Meanwhile, one hand is pushing down the thin sleeve of her shirt to expose more of her breast, almost to the edge of her bra that becomes even more of a hindrance as Tamamori’s fingers dip lower.

“Whatever, I like my long hair,” Tamamori says, and Miyata smiles because Tamamori’s never one to give much of a fuck about the trends, despite that being most of their job.

“Me too,” Miyata says, and she can feel Tamamori smile against her skin as both of her hands meet around Miyata’s back to unfasten her bra. The fabric brushes her nipples and Miyata arches from that alone, leaning back against Tamamori who makes a pleased noise as her fingers drift back around Miyata’s sensitive skin to the front.

She doesn’t tease for much longer, her impatience presumably winning over as she flicks both of Miyata’s nipples, which has Miyata choking on a moan that would have woken up her entire family had it been at full strength. Tamamori makes that noise again and keeps doing it, adding her thumb to twist gently and holding Miyata tightly as she squirms.

“You really like this, huh?” Tamamori asks, unnecessarily in Miyata’s opinion, with which Tamamori seems to agree since she doesn’t wait for an answer. “Can I take off your shirt?”

Miyata rushes to nod, warmed by the thoughtfulness of the question, and helpfully lifts her arms as Tamamori pulls both her shirt and her bra over her head. The crisp air of the spring night has her nipples even harder, her head falling back on Tamamori’s shoulder as her body jerks uncontrollably at the pressure coiling through it.

“Tama, please,” Miyata says again, a little ashamed at her desperation.

“Please what?” Tamamori asks, sounding like she’s enjoying every second of her taunting. “Tell me specifically what you want and I’ll do it.”

“I want you to touch me,” Miyata says clearly, her face burning. “Between my legs.”

Tamamori’s fingers are already at the hem of Miyata’s skirt before she replies. “I suppose I can do that, since you make it so easy.”

Miyata’s about to question that statement until Tamamori’s touch slides up her thigh and her legs instantly spread wide, skirt hiking up to her waist. ‘Easy’ doesn’t begin to describe how quickly she opens herself for Tamamori, yearning for her touch where she’s throbbing for it, hips bucking the second the instant Tamamori makes contact with her panties.

“Toshie,” Tamamori says firmly, using Miyata’s given name for one of the first times. “You’re soaked.”

“ _Please_ ,” Miyata begs, the tease of Tamamori’s finger trailing along the wet spot of her panties entirely too much to take. “Please, _Yuuko_.”

Tamamori pauses briefly, possibly assessing how she feels about her given name being said like that, and she must like it judging by the way her touch slides right under the fabric. She seems to be feeling it out at first, tracing Miyata’s folds and down to where her body is clenching involuntarily before moving back up. Miyata’s already moaning before anything even makes contact with her swollen clit, and she feels a fingertip breech her opening before everything disappears.

“This angle is awful,” Tamamori complains, though she holds onto Miyata tighter when Miyata whines at the sudden loss. “It’s as bad as when I do it myself.”

That has Miyata’s focus shifting, now picturing Tamamori on her back with her long legs in the air, body rocking back against her own fingers or maybe a toy as her hair splays everywhere and her face looks blissful—

“Oh my god, you’re imagining it, aren’t you?” Tamamori asks, and Miyata tries not to look too guilty as she’s laid down onto her bed with only her skirt around her waist. “You really are a voyeur.”

“Never said I wasn’t,” Miyata mumbles, fiercely reminded of the matter at hand as Tamamori teases up the inside of her thigh again, this time from the side. “Tama, _please_.”

“I like it better when you use my given name,” Tamamori says, leaning up to speak directly into Miyata’s ear, giving Miyata a shiver. “I can kiss you, right?”

“Please,” Miyata repeats, like a broken record, and then those lips are on hers, gentle yet fast as Tamamori kisses her over and over like she can’t stay still long enough for their lips to remain touching in the same place. She returns to where she’d left off just as quickly, though, and Miyata kisses back harder when Tamamori slowly pushes a finger inside her, deeper than Miyata can manage on her own. Her body instantly comes to life, making it more than clear where the good spots are and Tamamori finds them all, moving her finger faster and sending Miyata arching completely off of the bed before she even adds a second.

Tamamori brings her thumb up to tease Miyata’s clit and Miyata’s hips buck almost violently, pulling a sharp moan from her lungs that dies on Tamamori’s tongue as their kiss naturally deepens. Miyata thinks this is the only way she’s going to get through this without waking up the whole neighborhood, but then Tamamori pulls back and grins at her, licking her lips entirely too pointedly as she stares down at Miyata with dark eyes.

“You are so making this up to me,” she says, then lowers her mouth to one of Miyata’s breasts, licking at her nipple just long enough to make it wet before moving to the other. Now the cool air is a continuous stimulation, almost distracting Miyata enough not to notice Tamamori continuing down her belly and looping an arm around one of her thighs.

“Yuuko…” Miyata gasps, both of her hands fisting the sheets on either side of her as Tamamori wastes absolutely no time spreading her folds open and tonguing her clit. Two fingers keep moving inside her, fast and hard and right where she wants them, and Tamamori chases the jumpy ball of nerves until Miyata’s entire body seems to go up in flames, muscles clamping around Tamamori’s fingers that keep applying pressure to that spot as orgasm tears through her and she bites down on her lip to keep from being heard.

Tamamori pulls her head back, wiping her mouth as she crawls up Miyata’s tingling body, but her fingers don’t stop moving and she covers Miyata’s mouth with her own just in time to get her off again, and again, her legs wrapping around Tamamori to hold her close like Tamamori was actually thrusting inside her. Her hands grasp onto Tamamori’s arms and she belatedly realizes this is the first time she’s touched the other girl like this, Tamamori’s promising words about making this up to her echoing in her mind as she comes one final time.

“Damn, girl,” Tamamori says as she pulls back her hand, shaking out her wrist. “I am totally jealous of your stamina. I can only finish once and then I need a break.”

“Then Hiromi wasn’t doing it right,” Miyata tells her, a little cocky as she catches her breath and stretches her legs, unbothered that she’s completely nude while Tamamori is still fully dressed.

“She is pretty lazy in bed,” Tamamori says, grinning as she straddles Miyata’s waist. “My turn?”

“Mm,” Miyata agrees, palms resting on Tamamori’s denim-clad thighs. “You have a lot more clothes to take off, though.”

“Ugh, fine,” Tamamori scoffs as she yanks her two layers of shirts over her head and kicks off her jeans like it’s a costume change during one of their concerts. She leaves her bra and panties, cutely matched with yellow plaid, and Miyata swallows back a comment about underwear in member colors. “I think you can manage the rest.”

“Gives me something to look forward to,” Miyata says, lifting her hands to Tamamori’s bare waist and feeling how Tamamori’s stomach concaves at the touch. “Like a present to be opened.”

“Toshie,” Tamamori gasps as Miyata continues up her sides excruciatingly slowly. “Is there something you want to tell me?”

“Nope,” Miyata lies, flashing a grin at Tamamori before leaning up to taste the skin of her neck. Miyata can smell the faint remains of Tamamori’s perfume, her mind clouded with tangerines as her hands roam all over Tamamori’s skin, warm to the touch. She only traces the outlines of Tamamori’s bra and panties, leading the other girl to squirm impatiently while Miyata maps all of Tamamori’s curves and contours to her heart.

“Come _on_ ,” Tamamori growls, and her hard punch of the mattress next to them tells Miyata how worked up she is. “Do it before I do it myself.”

“I am not opposed to that one bit,” Miyata tells her, her body more than interested in that threat.

“Freak,” Tamamori hisses, but she leans up on her knees and it’s worth the lustful look she’s directing down at Miyata, even if it’s mostly a glare. “You’re not getting out of this without doing any of the work, just so you know.”

“Got it,” Miyata says, stretching her arms behind her head and locking her eyes on Tamamori’s gorgeous body. “Just show me a little bit? Then I can see what you like.”

Surprisingly Tamamori just nods, one hand drifting down her abdomen and brushing knuckles over the thin material of her panties. She must be really turned on, because the mere motion has the fabric dampening, almost translucent. Miyata can almost see the outline of her folds and the small bump that grows as Tamamori rubs at it. It’s possibly the hottest thing Miyata has ever seen, hotter than any gay porn, even the ones she’s watched starring girls.

Tamamori moans softly, and Miyata looks up to see her eyes closed, her other hand squeezing a bra-clad breast, her body arching at the combined touch. She’s a fairly well-endowed girl (Tai-chan likes to snark that it’s the only reason she’s in the front), and Miyata’s fingers itch with the need to find out whether Tamamori’s breasts will spill over her hands, unlike her own smaller ones. She catches Tamamori’s thumb flicking her nipple through the bra, which isn’t padded at all to allow Miyata to see that tiny bump as well, and Miyata’s body throbs again with need as a fresh wave of arousal crashes over her at the sight before her eyes.

“I really like the way you’re looking at me right now,” Tamamori says quietly, a bit breathless. “It makes me want to keep doing it, but you should touch me too?”

Miyata is already trailing fingers up Tamamori’s thigh when she answers, “Tell me what you want me to do.”

“Inside me,” Tamamori says bluntly, and Miyata swallows hard as she approaches the positively drenched crotch of Tamamori’s panties. “Please, Toshie.”

Miyata’s pretty sure that Tamamori could get whatever she wanted with just those two words, giving Miyata the courage to dip two fingers under the wet fabric. She didn’t expect it to be so warm, Tamamori’s body more than inviting as Miyata finds the opening and carefully pushes a finger inside, riding out the continuous clenching of Tamamori’s muscles. It’s nothing like doing it herself, though it’s easy enough to figure out where Tamamori likes it judging by the sharp way she rocks back and how she gropes her breast more roughly.

A second finger joins the first and Miyata can’t take it anymore—she sits up and reaches around Tamamori’s back with her free hand to unhook her bra, then mouths her way onto the breast that Tamamori herself is not touching without bothering to remove off the garment. Tamamori tightens even more around her fingers, the nipple hardening in her mouth as she flicks her tongue against it like Tamamori had done to her, only not letting up right away.

“Toshie,” Tamamori moans, bouncing up and down like she’s riding Miyata’s fingers, and Miyata wonders if this is what it looks like when she’s on top with boys. “Don’t stop, I’m close.”

“Let me see,” Miyata whispers into the flesh of Tamamori’s breast, pressing a final kiss to it before leaning back to look down.

“Fucking do it yourself then,” Tamamori mutters, and Miyata doesn’t waste any time pulling the waist of Tamamori’s panties open to watch her finger hooked under her swollen clit, moving faster than Miyata’s eyes can process. She can see the bump twitch at the same time Tamamori clamps down around her fingers, which struggle to keep moving as she lifts her head to watch Tamamori’s face contort in orgasm. She’s still squeezing her own breast, now fallen completely out of her bra, and her skin is pink all the way down to her stomach. “Okay stop, I’m done.”

“Are you sure about that?” Miyata asks, well aware of how Tamamori’s body continues to convulse from her fingers. “Come down here.”

Tamamori doesn’t argue, just lies down on top of Miyata who seeks out her lips and kisses her gently as her other hand returns to her chest. Their nipples brush together and now Miyata’s gasping with her, thrusting her fingers a little deeper in result and now Tamamori’s the one making a noise that Miyata has to swallow.

“Oh fuck,” Tamamori chokes out as she comes again, pushing back against the touch like it’s involuntary. “Toshi, oh god, what is this, don’t stop.”

“Told you,” Miyata takes the opportunity to say, feeling smug about being the one to know something that Tamamori doesn’t despite being the inexperienced one. “You can touch me like this again if you want.”

That last sentence slips out without thinking, but it’s beyond true if the way Miyata’s hips are rocking up toward the _air_ is any indication. She expects Tamamori to whine about having to do something, but the next thing she knows is fingers poking between her legs and she ends up spreading Tamamori’s even wider in the attempt to widen her own.

“Fuck,” Tamamori gasps between sloppy, heated kisses that most likely only serve to muffle their respective moans. “How long does this go on?”

“I’m…” Miyata starts, immediately pausing to arch and come. “I’m not sure.”

She loses count after five, but only because Tamamori’s fingers are magic and somehow manage to penetrate her deeply without making it hurt. The same cannot be said for Miyata, who has Tamamori stopping her for real a while later, but Miyata just makes a joke about building stamina with time and Tamamori doesn’t even have the energy to shove her in response.

The video playing on Miyata’s laptop has changed scenes probably three times by the time they’re done, and Tamamori curls up on top of Miyata as they watch it. “I still don’t see what you find hot about this, especially since you clearly like girls.”

“You don’t have to understand it,” Miyata tells her, pinching her side hard enough to make her jump. “Just accept it.”

“And use it to my advantage,” Tamamori adds, her voice dripping with promise, and Miyata can’t stop smiling.


End file.
